


of bread and love

by impulserun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:18:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/pseuds/impulserun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m a baker. It’s an occupational hazard.” Bakery AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	of bread and love

You sigh as you stand, stretching out the kink in your back. Just like you do every other day, you can’t help but wish vehemently that James would invest in higher shelves. Then you wouldn’t have to stoop so low just to restock them. 

But then again, that would be a waste of precious unit space, so you grit your teeth and bear with it. You only have your genes to blame for being so tall. 

Besides, at least you’re doing something you love. (Poor Regulus. He’s stuck as the heir now, and aren’t you glad it’s not you?)

Hefting the (now empty) bulky baking tray, you wipe away a bead of sweat trickling down your face and turn to retreat to the kitchens.

You freeze. It’s him. Remus.

He waves. You blink owlishly. ( _A deer in the headlights_ , pipes up a voice that sounds remarkably like Lily.)

“Uncle Siri!” squeaks the little boy holding his hand. You force yourself to smile.

“If it isn’t little Teddy! Here for your weekly fruit tart, kiddo?”

The boisterous brunette nods, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “An’ Daddy wan’s something chocolate!”

You laugh, and remember not to ruffle his hair. Your hands are still covered in flour; it wouldn’t do to get any in….

Wait.

Flour.

“You have flour on your face, Sirius,” Remus comments, smiling that wry smile that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m a baker,” you shoot back. “It’s an occupational hazard. What did you expect?”

Reaching up, you attempt to eradicate the offending flour smear, but you only make it worse; Teddy shrieks with laughter.

The corners of Remus’ lips quirk upwards into an amused smile. “Go on, Teddy,” he says to his son. “Pick out something for me, too; I’ll be here talking to Sirius, okay?”

“Kay!” he chirps, his grey eyes bright and cheerful, and runs off to get a tray.

You swallow nervously. Trapped.

The two of you stand in silence, watching as the precocious toddler peers suspiciously into the nearest shelf of buns. (Almost as tall as Harry is, you note unconsciously, and Harry is all of one year older. The midget.)

“Sirius, about last week -“

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I - I was drunk, I shouldn’t have, um. I shouldn’t have -” You bite your lip. “I’m sorry.”

He raises an eyebrow at your incoherency. Smooth, Sirius.

“I guess what I’m saying is - what with the divorce, and Teddy, and…. Well, I. What I did was….” Stupid. Utterly moronic. ( ~~Wonderful. The best thing to happen since sliced bread.)~~  “Inappropriate.” 

Remus raises the other eyebrow too. You find yourself looking desperately for a shovel to bury yourself with.

“If we never talk about this again,” you ask, “will you help me dig my grave? Like, _right now_?”

Now he just looks exasperated. “Will you let me finish my sentence?”

You blink, shuffling your feet awkwardly. 

“About last week,” he continues, “well. I was just wondering, before I go on - Sirius, how drunk, exactly, were you that night?”

 _Not very_ , you admit inwardly. You can hold your liquor, and that night you only had two cans of beer. But maybe if you lie - 

“Uncle Siri?” Teddy hollers, lost in the labyrinth of shelves. “Where’s all the chocolate?”

“Two rows down from the fruit tarts,” you call back, marvelling at how calm you sound. Then you turn back to Remus. The expression on his face is unreadable.

“Don’t lie. I know how many cans you had.”

Foiled.

You tell him in a tiny voice that you were only slightly buzzed. He nods, satisfied. ( _Satisfied? But why?_ says Lily.)

You decide it might be best to apologise again, and do so. “I know - I know it was stupid of me, so, if we could forget this ever happened, could we still be friends?”

“Sirius,” he interjects, “I don’t want to forget it happened. I don’t want to be friends.”

Your heart plummets, but he isn’t done yet. 

“If I weren’t here with Teddy, I’d be pushing you up against the wall by now, flour on your face and all.”

Wait, what? You must have said that out loud, for Remus is laughing. The sound of it is crisp and clear and  _Remus_  and gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Sirius,” he breathes, and the way your name sounds on his lips sends jolts of electricity down your spine. 

“Remus? You - I - What? But - Dora?” (You lament the fact that you never seem to be quite as eloquent when you’re around the amber-eyed brunette.)

“You know, I thought you were straight,” Remus remarks. He says this much like he’s passing comment on the weather. You think you might be hallucinating.

“So did I,” you reply, slightly hysterical. “Apparently it’s an easy mistake to make.”

He grins again. The elusive dimple in his right cheek appears; this is the happiest you have seen him in weeks - no - months. Is it because of you? You feel faint. 

“But - Dora?” You try and fail yet again to voice your thoughts coherently.

The smile disappears almost too quickly. You regret ever opening your mouth.

“She knew,” Remus murmurs. “It was - I think - part of the reason why we didn’t work out.”

Oh. (Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but feel a short burst of vindictive glee.)

Teddy emerges at last from the shelves, clutching his loaded plastic tray with a death grip. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” 

He nods.

“Right then,” you say. “I’ll be getting back to work - Lily’s manning the counter, as usual.” 

You turn to leave, but Remus reaches out and grabs you by the arm. “I -” He stammers, cheeks slightly pink. “Dora has custody of Teddy next week - I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to come over for dinner….?”

There’s the beginning of a full-blown stupid grin stretching across your face. You don’t attempt to hide it. “Sure,” you say. “I’d - I’d love to.”

Remus positively  _beams_.

“Dad,” Teddy whines, “can we go now? My arms are sore.”

“Okay, okay.” He turns back to you, still smiling. “See you next week?”

You nod. “Yeah. See you.”

You turn to re-enter the kitchens as Remus and Teddy head for the counter, still grinning like a fool. James takes one look at you and snorts with laughter.


End file.
